


A Thing Worth Fixing

by judithandronicus



Series: We Can Fix It [2]
Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, Grumpy Eliot Spencer, How is that not a tag, Hurt Eliot Spencer, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Minor Injuries, Multi, OT3, POV Eliot Spencer, Sub Eliot Spencer, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29927757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judithandronicus/pseuds/judithandronicus
Summary: Followup fic toWe Can Fix It. This one is smuttier, and involves Eliot letting go and living his subbiest, best life.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Series: We Can Fix It [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2200986
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	A Thing Worth Fixing

“Dammit, Hardison.”

His growl doesn’t quite have the same force when it comes out like that, all hitched breath and stuttered words, a choked off gasp as Alec scrapes his teeth down Eliot’s neck, nibbles at the spotwhere it meets his shoulder, sucks until it blossoms into a deep crimson. Alec has a thing about marking him up—just him, never Parker—and Eliot loves it. Loves it because he wants it, wants that claim. Tangible, physical proof that he belongs to _them_.

If that growl turns into a whimper, Alec at least has the decency to let it slide, even if Eliot can feel his lips curl into a smile against his neck. Eliot reaches behind his head, scrambling to get hold of some part of Alec—the back of his head, his neck, his shoulder, his _anything_ —and turns his head, pulling Alec into an awkward, sloppy kiss. It’s mostly teeth and tongue, but it’s about all he can manage because his brain’s going a bit haywire, what with how Alec has started rubbing up against his ass like that.

And Parker… _well._ She’s still pressed all snug against his front, soft pink lips nibbling along his collarbone as she brushes her fingertips over his nipples. Her touch is featherlight, barely more than an idea of a touch, really. But still, that tiny drag against the fabric of his henley is enough to set Eliot’s nerves alight. He can’t help himself, bucking his hips forward against her and then back against the hard line of Alec’s growing erection.

Eliot groans as she mouths her way up his throat, lets his head fall back onto Alec’s shoulder because now they’re attacking from opposite sides, Alec nosing along that spot behind his ear and Parker giving him another hickey just underneath his jaw. It’s a wonder he hasn’t melted right into the floor already, sucker as he is for somebody lovin’ on his neck like that. Especially when it’s them doing the lovin’.

Okay, maybe he whimpers a little bit when their mouths meet over his shoulder, but it’s only about halfway disappointed that they’re no longer nibbling at his neck. The rest of him is turned on as fuck by these two gorgeous people making out over him, squeezing in even closer, the press of their bodies against his making him squirm and wiggle.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Alec’s mouth is back on Eliot’s neck now, his breath a hot tease as he mouths the words into Eliot’s flushed skin. “Wanna give you what you need.”

And… _fuck_ , why is he like this? What does it gotta be so goddamn _hard_ to what Alec says? To just say it, to tell them what he wants, what he needs? Eliot’s cheeks burn, and he fucking hates it.

“You’re here; we’re safe; we love you,” Parker whispers into one ear while Alec nibbles on the other. And ain’t that the kicker? She’s the one who got hurt tonight—the one _Eliot_ hurt—and here she is, comforting _him_. It ain’t fair, ain’t _right_ , and Eliot tries to tell her that, starts to shake his head, but when he opens his mouth to argue she shoves her tongue into his mouth, instead.

His girl knows how to shut him up faster than anything, he’s gotta hand it to her. She bites his lower lip as she pulls away, and Eliot feels the pinch of it straight down in his dick.

“No.” Parker gives him a loud, closed mouth kiss for good measure, then grins up at him. “You need this,” she says, simply.

And…well, she ain’t wrong. He’s still on edge, his nerves rattled and brain moving way too fast, and they know better than anyone—better than Eliot, himself, even—how to quiet the noise, how to help him reset, to bring his feet back firm on the ground underneath him.

They each take him by the hand, leading him toward the bedroom, and Eliot goes willingly, lets himself be led, ready and completely willing to submit.

* * *

“Undress and kneel.” Parker commands, not sparing even a glance over her shoulder at where he follows behind them. They drop his hands like they’ve timed it, like it’s a choreographed maneuver, and shit, maybe it is. He can’t see their faces, so he can’t be sure they’re not exchanging _looks_. And damned if that whole ignoring him thing doesn’t make his jeans tighter.

Eliot’s eyes don’t stray from her back as he begins to obey. He squats down to untie his boots, shucking them off to the corner of the bedroom as quickly as he can, and then reaches behind his neck to tug his shirt off. Alec’s moved outside his line of sight, but Parker is still there, just standing in front of the giant platform bed, not acknowledging Eliot’s presence whatsoever. She slides her fingers into her hair and fiddles just a bit, and a couple seconds later, she’s removed the bobby pins securing the messy bun and is shaking waves of cornsilk blonde hair down her back.

“Eliot?”

He startles at his name, a throaty rumble that comes from behind his left shoulder, just before warm arms wrap around him, pulling his back snug against Alec’s now naked torso.

“I believe the lady gave you an order,” Alec purrs, grazing his fingers up Eliot’s chest and teasing circles at his nipples, “you ain’t gonna misbehave, now, are you?”

“N-n-no, sir.” Eliot brings his hands to his belt as he answers, his trembling fingers fumbling with the buckle as Alec’s breath ghosts along the back of his neck.

“Good boy.”

Eliot doesn’t whine. He _does not_ whine.

Strong hands cover his shaky ones, nimbly taking over Eliot’s struggle to unbutton his goddamn pants, then sliding inside to palm his cock over his boxers.

Okay, so maybe he whines a little when Alec withdraws his hand. Sue him.

“Now, get to it, baby.” Alec says with a hard smack to his ass.

Eliot obeys, stepping out of his jeans where they’ve pooled at his feet before awkwardly hopping to get his boxers and socks off. Then, he walks to the foot of the bed and drops to his knees, kneeling onto the pillow one of them has left for him. With his shoulders squared off and his hands clasped behind his lower back, he tucks his chin.His eyes go soft as he gazes down to the floor in front of him.

He can feel the heat of Parker’s body when she invades his space, her long, now bare legs not quite touching his back. Eliot wants to lean into her, feel her smooth skin against his own, let his head fall back to nestle at the vee of her legs. He wants to, so desperately _wants_ , but doesn’t move. His partners have taken control for the night, relieved him of all responsibility, given him permission to let go.

To just _be._

Parker runs her hand along the top of his head, and then he feels her practical, short nails scratching lightly at his scalp just before those slender fingers tangle in his hair and give a harsh tug. He relaxes into her touch and lets himself be moved, lets his head fall back until she has him where she wants him. He’s staring straight up, blinking against the tendrils of blonde hair dangling onto his face as he meets her ice-blue gaze. She moves her hair out of his eyes, then runs a soothing fingertip along his jaw, his bruised cheekbone.

“You got into a fight.”

It’s not a question, so he doesn’t answer. Instead, Eliot struggles at her words. Struggles against the shame bubbling up in his throat. Struggles to swallow, struggles to breathe. To maintain eye contact when he wants to look away, guiltier than a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Alec, get the first aid kid and a few ice packs.” Those piercing eyes don’t leave his face as she speaks. She’s still got a hold of him by his hair, but the hand stroking his cheek is gone.

Eliot can hear Hardison’s movement in the distance, but suddenly his focus shifts. Somehow, without looking, she’s managed to poke at one of his new injuries, and he’s starting to think that rib might’ve gotten a little more than bruised. Cracked, maybe. Blinking rapidly, he takes a quick inhale through his nose, pushes his tongue against the roof of his mouth to keep from cursing or flinching away from where her finger probes the bruise blossoming along his ribcage.

“I don’t like it when you hurt yourself,” she murmurs, bending down so closely that her lips are moving against his forehead as she talks. And, okay, he may have been able to stay stoic against the prodding, but a man can only take so much before he breaks. Lips trembling, he whimpers at the gentle admonition, because that cuts deeper than any goddamn knife could ever reach.

“It’s okay, El,” she soothes, pressing delicate kisses all along the ridge of his brow, “you’re okay. We’re okay. Just…I dunno, keep workin’ on it? For me, please?”

For Parker? He’d lasso the goddamn moon for her. His tongue heavy in his throat, too heavy to even think of making words, Eliot just nods at her. Blinks away the tears he hadn’t noticed forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Now get on the bed.” She lets go of his hair and smacks his ass. “On your back.”

* * *

“Alright, mama,” Hardison’s voice echoes from the doorway, “got ice packs, first aid kit, and that arnica gel, for good measure.” Eliot can hear the know-it-all smirk in his voice, and he wants to smack him. Or kiss him. Probably both.

He feels the mattress dip and settle, and then Hardison’s body is pressing against his, warm and solid. It takes a whole lot of Eliot’s willpower not to run his hand up that smooth, toned chest. It’s enough of an effort that his breath catches, just for a moment. But that’s all it takes, because Alec’s as tuned in to Eliot’s patterns and movements as Eliot is to his. Alec chuckles as he leans in closer and presses a kiss to the hinge of Eliot’s jaw. If it didn’t feel so damn good, Eliot would loose a “Dammit, Hardison” growl.

Who’s he kidding? Eliot definitely wants to do both.

“Eliot, stay _still_ ,” Parker says, exasperated, with a huff of breath that temporarily moves her bangs off her face. He may have managed to keep his hands to himself, but his hips? That’s another matter entirely, Eliot realizes, and forces himself to stop squirming. But then Parker’s climbing onto the bed with them, her lithe figure still swimming in Hardison’s oversized t-shirt, its stretched out collar hanging off her shoulder and inviting both men to peek inside.

“We’re not breakin’ you tonight since we gotta fix you up now.” Her brows knit together in frustration as she looks to Hardison for confirmation. Eliot can feel the other man nodding softly against the side of his face. It’s Parker logic, but it makes perfect sense. Even if he understands it, that don’t mean Eliot’s not a little disappointed. He tries not to pout.

“Aw, now _hell_ no.” Alec sits up, and Eliot misses his warmth already. “Now I _know_ you ain’t about to pull that _‘woe is me’_ puppy-dog eyes shit after bein’ a grumpy ass all damn night. Bustin’ that damn piñata and goin’ out and getting yourself beat up, makin’ us _worry.”_ Parker catches Eliot’s eye as Alec talks, and she’s grinning that brighter than sunshine grin of hers, and Eliot can’t help but grin back. Alec’s still ranting when she leans across Eliot and plants a kiss on the corner of his mouth. After an almost comical double-take, Alec gets the message, and then they’re on their knees on either side of Eliot’s hips, kissing wet and messy above him.

It goes on for long enough that Eliot gets restless. After all, he’s been lying here, completely naked, for approximately twenty-seven eternities watching the two most beautiful, infuriating people on the planet make out.

That’s just rude, is what it is.

They break apart at that, both looking down at him with consternation, and maybe Eliot said that last bit out loud. Oops.

“I prob’ly should’ve been more specific earlier,” Parker begins, a feral smile spreading across her lips. “I meant we weren’t gonna break you _physically_ , ‘cause I know how much you like that.” Eliot’s vaguely aware of Hardison messing with the first aid kit as he watches Parker crawl up the bed, moving with a feline grace that never fails to mesmerize him, and then straddle his face.

“Nuh-uh, Mr. Grumpy Pants,” she chastises him, because he’s lifted his head and is already well on his way to burying his face in her pussy before it even registers that he’s done it. “Head on the bed. No touching.” And then his brain’s gone all sorts of gooey because she’s dropped down to slidethat slick heat over his face, and holy Mary mother of fucking _Christ_ Eliot’s never gonna go out looking for a fight again.

But it’s just a tease, because it’s Parker and of _course_ she’s gonna make him suffer now, ain’t she? She hauls herself up _just_ beyond his reach, and then leans over his chest to inspect Hardison’s progress tending to the wounds on his ribcage and stomach. They’re talking, he can hear them talking, but Eliot can’t seem to focus on anything they’re saying, what with Parker’s snatch taunting him like that. So he settles for a little bit of fair play, teasing her as best he can without touching, alternating blowing cool, focused streams toward her clit with the damp heat of open-mouthed breaths along her slit. He knows he’s struck a nerve when she starts to sink infinitesimally lower so that he can tease her more readily.

“ _Eliot.”_ Alec’s voice is stern, and Eliot realizes he’s been a bit…well, a little bit _distracted,_ and maybe he missed the first time or two that Alec spoke to him. For that matter, when did he settle across Eliot’s thighs like that? Effectively pinned down by the two of them, Eliot can’t help but squirm, delighting in the heat of their bodies, the warm press of their limbs against him.

“I said, how’s that feelin’, El? You gotta pay attention.”

The next time he squirms, it’s a more deliberate one, seeking feedback from the pain receptors of freshly bruised flesh, scraped skin, aching muscles, that one maybe-fractured bone. He inhales, as deep and full as he can make it, breathing in the scent of Parker’s arousal as he tests out his newly bandaged injuries. Always a quick study, Alec’s gotten good at field medicine over the past year, so Eliot’s satisfied, but _not_ surprised, to feel the secure compression at his ribs.

“Much better,” Eliot sighs, pleased by how Parker wiggles into his exhale. Nothing like a good distraction to make a man forget his aches and pains, after all.

“Be right back!”

Parker leaps off the bed with the grace of a dancer, leaving Eliot dazed, his skin pebbling into goosebumps as he’s exposed to the chill of the room. Alec’s not far behind her, although he does pause long enough to issue a stern command. “Stay where you are, baby. We’ll be back.” The big old geek pulls out his shitty Terminator impression on the second bit, because _of course_ he does, and Eliot has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. It’s an endearingly shitty Terminator impression, okay? Sue him.

The bedroom door shuts behind them, and Eliot is left there—naked, hard, and wanting—to wait.


End file.
